Prologue
It had been almost one-hundred forty years since the night of Don Juan, and it was still rumored that the infamous Opera Ghost still haunted the Palais Garnier. For decades after the fire, the Palais Garnier lay abandoned until a private benefactor rebuilt the damage, and now, after a century of success, the Palais Garnier was once again a respected venue for performances. It stood proud, erect, restored to its opulence and beauty. Nevertheless, the rumors and stories trickled around the crew and performers about the Opera Ghost.
Despite its new found popularity, the opera house was in desperate need of renovation; it had been almost thirty years since any work had been done. With the death of the current benefactor, the heir – who had no interest in the arts – was looking to sell out. It was an "uncouth American southerner" – as he was called among the crew – that, as an asset, had invested in the opera house. The managers, boring business men that were mostly absent, had given the new benefactor free reign to redesign and renovate however he saw fit.
The rumor spreading like wildfire around the opera was that the American was flying in an American architect and designer to do the renovation. None of the crew or performers was pleased with the idea, but no one was as furious as the oldest member of the opera house.
In the depths of the Garnier, where no one dared venture even this long after the infamous story, an irate spirit was flinging objects around his domain.
Not for the first time, nor the hundredth, did Erik curse his miserable fate of being a lingering spirit for eternity. Why couldn't he have died as he had intended all those years ago? Why had fate been so cruel yet again? He had accepted that he would spend eternity unseen, haunting his beloved opera. With each performance he was comforted, knowing that as long as his masterpiece was in operation, eternity would be bearable, but he would never – never! – accept an American invading his space, changing his masterpiece.
If it meant becoming a solid, real entity once again, then so be it.
If it meant returning to his old weapon of choice, then so be it.
If it meant using it, then so be it.
His home, his pride and joy, would not be left in the hands of an uncouth American barbarian.
Author's Note: I'm hesitant to say what this story will be. Whether it's ALW or Leroux or Kay, I'm not sure. I'm leaning towards a mix. We will meet our heroine soon, though. Thank you for reading.